


fall.

by OliveYou



Category: Original Work
Genre: Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-11
Updated: 2016-11-11
Packaged: 2018-08-30 07:38:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8524270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OliveYou/pseuds/OliveYou
Summary: i don't know why i wrote this. sometimes i just. get sad. and i don't know why.so. have this thing.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i don't know why i wrote this.   
> sometimes i just. get sad. and i don't know why.  
> so. have this thing.

Fall is the season of flight.

I know this because the sky is brilliantly blue, crisp and clear like a sheet.

Contrary to the name, Fall keeps it’s skies clean and it’s leaves trimmed, in perfect condition for taking off. You will not fall, but fly.

(Autumn is for the fancier kind-the poets, the artists, the ones like me-the writers.

It sounds sophisticated.)

I have dreams of flying, sometimes. Of soaring, of seeing the world from the sky. It feels nice.

At least I think it does, because I forget as soon as I wake up.

I still want to fly, though. The sky is so blue.

Fall is also for the trees.

I used to go out every fall to watch the leaves, and explore the forest-but now there aren’t many trees.

I wish there were.

It’s the season of harvest, it’s said, and I believe it. I harvested the acorns, the leaves, the flowers. Until the neighbors cut down the oak tree in their front yard, anyway. Now I stay inside. There are no leaves to rake and no flowers to pick, and all that’s left is sunshine.

We have a very boring backyard.

I hope the next one is better-6 acres, they said, and all of it forest. That should be okay.

I had another dream about our old house. The neighbor’s yard had a bunch of mushrooms in it, and they made everything yellow. The house didn’t look right on the inside and the deck had scalloped edges.

But the swing set was still there, which is good. The swings-red and green-worked, I think, because my sister and I tried them.

The slide should still be there, too. Maybe it’s gotten warped a little.

I don’t care about moving, really. I feel it would be better if I didn’t get attached to anything so I don’t get sad every time we move. Hopefully this will be the last one, but I wouldn’t be surprised if dad ended up buying another one.

I never liked this house. That’ll make it easier to move, I guess. I will be sad to leave my room, though. Lavender is my favorite color.

Thanksgiving is probably my favorite holiday, because we always invite people or go places. Like to my aunt’s house. Or to our grandparents.

Plus I like food. Who doesn’t? Maybe I can make pecan pie again.

I don’t remember if it was for Christmas or Thanksgiving, but we used to go over to our grandparent’s house and eat those soft carrots and little purple potatoes. And then granny would bring out this pudding and try and light it. It usually wouldn’t work, but it didn’t matter because I wasn’t allowed to eat it anyway.

I guess I just like family. Being in the middle of everything, with aunts and uncles and French cousins, is fun to me. It makes me feel safe.

Fall is the season of sweaters. Of rakes. Of forest fashion shows. Of pumpkin spice flavored everything.

I still want to fly whenever I look up. Fall skies are meant to be climbed.


End file.
